


Child’s Play

by SimplyEssa



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe — Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Violence, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) Whump, Masochist Lotor, Mentions of Krolia - Freeform, Protective Hunk (Voltron), Protective Pidge (Voltron), Torture, Whump, interrogations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 16:32:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19009576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyEssa/pseuds/SimplyEssa
Summary: The Paladin fights it, that much Lotor can give him, but by the time there’s three, thick trails of crimson rolling down his throat, he gasps and lifts his head up.Lotor barely stifles his own gasp.He looks near identical to General Krolia, asides from the obvious difference in skin tone and age; he can’t be older than a Galran kit.





	Child’s Play

**Author's Note:**

> i had a plot for this when i started i promise but then pidge started cussing him out and i lost control
> 
> please take this piece of crap written within three hours.
> 
> unbetad. my phones autocorrect is turned off bc on is more difficult, so i apologize for any unreadable typos and any typos

Lotor kept his smug grin concealed as the Red Paladin’s knees slammed harshly against the metal floor. The other Paladins protested, but a gun aimed to their friend’s head shut them right up.

“As there is no one in black armour here, nor has there been when I saw you in the feeds,” he starts, slowly circling the Red Paladin, “I’m forced to assume that you are their leader?”

Though the Paladin doesn’t lift his head, his words are as clear and sharp as ever, “Fuck you.”

He doesn’t understand the word, but he’s sure it’s not a compliment.

“Tell me,” he starts, slowing to a stop before him. He holds out his hand, palm up, waiting for one of his Generals to place a knife in it— more specifically, this Paladin’s knife.

When Ezor had stripped him of his armour, she had found t situated right beneath his back plate of armour, underneath the suit. An unsavory spot, really. Nearly impossible to reach, unless he wanted to take off his entire set of armour in the middle of a battle.

Realizing he’s paused for far too long, looking at this knife, he clears his throat and points it at him, ignoring the other two’s cries of protest. He must find a way to crush their vocal chords. It’s rather annoying.

“Tell me,” he tries, again, placing the tip of the knife on the underside of his chin, uncaring of the crimson that rolls down his pale throat as he forces him to look up. “Where are the other two Paladins?”

The Paladin fights it, that much Lotor can give him, but by the time there’s three, thick trails of crimson rolling down his throat, he gasps and lifts his head up.

Lotor barely stifles his own gasp.

He looks near identical to General Krolia, asides from the obvious difference in skin tone and age; he can’t be older than a Galran kit.

It can’t be a coincidence that he looks like her and appears so young— he’s only a child, leading what he can only assume are children into battle, as well.

“Axca,” he looks at her, gesturing to the Green and Yellow Paladins, “bring them closer. Show me their faces.”

Axca doesn’t appear to understand his train of thought, but she doesn’t question him, simply obeys. Her loyalty always exceeds his expectations.

She drags the smaller one over first, despite the originally quiet Red Paladin’s protests, and fists a hand in her hair— a different colour from the Red ones, he notes— and forces her to look at him.

Though she doesn’t resemble any Generals, she looks far younger than the one he’s currently holding a knife to.

He studies her for another moment before he brings his eyes back to the Red one, meeting his fierce glare. He clicks his tongue and pulls the knife away, his lips twitching when he surges forwards, presumably to try and catch him off guard.

Knocking the child flat onto his back is simply that; child’s play. He places a booted foot onto his chest when he’s close enough and presses down firmly, unable to conceal his grin when he hears a snap as the child hits the ground. As much as he doesn’t like hurting a mere child, he’s never been one to turn down beating down an enemy’s pride and dignity.

He only lifts his head from the boy beneath his foot when he hears a gag, and looks towards the Yellow Paladin, currently shaking in his bonds and… attempting to avoid vomiting, it seems.

“Are you sick, Paladin?” he asks, but the Yellow one shoots him a glare that, to be frank, doesn’t intimidate him at all, but at least he’s trying. “If you require to be sick, Axca can—“

“Can it, you moldy grape!” the Green one exclaims, startling him enough to whip his head in her direction.

He vaguely hears Ezor mutter ‘ohh, snap,’ beneath her breath and makes a mental note to reprimand her for that, later.

“Pardon me?”

“You heard me!” She yells, anger coating her body in the form of balled fists, hunched shoulders, and a furious scowl. She ignores her warning hiss from beneath his boot and prattles on. “If you keep trying to shit talk my friends, I’ll be sure to cram your ugly, wrinkled fucking face into the ass of a Weblum, restrained or not, fuckface.”

He snorts, pressing down a little harder on her leader’s chest, watching her face scrunch up more when he groans, and raises an eyebrow. “I’d like to see you try, little one.”

“Do or do not, there is no fucking try, you motherfucking—“

“Pidge!”

The Green one— Pidge— freezes as the Yellow one calls her name, casting a more or less relaxed look at him as she turns to face him.

“Pidge, I love you, I really do, but shut up. He—“ he looks at Lotor, gulps, and continues, “ eepskay ressingpay ownday arderhay,” he finishes, voice harsh, and Pidge recoils slightly, curling into herself, but not without a final glare to himself.

What in the universe did that boy just say?

Was that ancient Altean? Arusian?

“Inefay,” she mutters back, before throwing an apology glance at their leader, who’s watching the exchange with a small grin on his face, despite the obvious pain he’s in. “Sorry, Keith.”

“On’tday pologizeay,” he mutters back, a chuckle laced throughout his words, and what the hell are they saying?

“What is this language?” he asks, lifting his boot off of the Paladin’s chest and replaces it with his hand, lifting him off of his back. He pulls him until the Paladin is stumbling into standing, then holds him over his head. The Paladin— Keith’s— legs squirm, trying to kick him, but they’re an inch too short to reach him. “Tell me.”

A wad of what he assumes to be blood lands on his cheekbone, and he sees red. Literally.

He hears yelling, feels his arms move, and a blur of red, before he blanks completely. He’s so inconsolably furious that he wants to tear this boy apart and glue him back together wrong, leaving the stupid child to pick up the pieces before he tears it down again.

When he finally comes to, recognizing his surroundings, the boy is beneath him, head lolling sideways, both eyes closed— one swollen shut— and blood leaking from both nostrils, the corner of his mouth and the middle.

He slowly lowers his arms from where they were raised above his head, barely noticing the blood coating his fists before he pushes down any feelings that are ready to burst and gets off of the boy, dusting off his armour.

He walks the short distance back to the other two Paladins who look a mix of shocked and angry, continues past them without a word, and pulls Axca aside.

“Send them back to their Castle in a weaponless escape pod. Destroy them if they try to attack us, somehow. I will not use children as hostages.”

“Prince Lotor—“

“ _Now_.”

Axca sighs, but nods. Her loyalty, as previously stated, will always exceed his expectations.

 

 


End file.
